So This Is Love

“If you keep pricking me with those goddamn pins, I swear I’ll shove my foot so far up your—“

“Frank Anthony, don’t you dare finish that sentence,” my Mom said, looking at me disapprovingly with her hands on her hips.

I looked at her and inwardly groaned. I didn’t want to get fitted for the suit. Damn it, it sucked. Eventually, I had had enough of their pricking – which I think was on purpose because I was just another rich kid they had to tailor – and I left. My Mom was screaming after me, but I ignored her and began to walk down the street. It’s only been three days since Rachel picked out her wedding dress, and I'm having even more doubts already. I don’t know her. I really don’t know a thing about her personal life. Shouldn’t a person know that much before you decide to jump up and get married? Well, unless you're Khloe Kardashian and Lamar Odom. But still, they got to spend time with each other. But no, not according to my parents. They think I’ll try to do stuff with her. They don’t want her to fall pregnant before the wedding, nor do they want us to even have sex before the wedding. I've never been one for a one-night stand (though I've never even had sex), so what in the world makes them think that I’ll try that with her? I don’t want to do that. I have no desire to have sex with her at the moment, the main reason being the simple fact that I don’t know who the fuck she is.

My parents would kill me if they could read minds. They would consider me an unworthy child and surely disown me for going against their wishes, even though I'm not technically doing anything to go against their wishes… yet.

I kept walking, not paying attention to where I was going, and I bumped into someone.

“I'm sorry,” I apologized to the man.

“It’s fine,” he said, walking off.

I turned down a street, my Mom’s voice still chirping in my head, and came to a small café that I've never seen before. Maybe it’s because I'm not really allowed to go out that often, and if I do, I don’t really have anyone to go with, all because my parents don’t like my friends, especially since one of them is gay.

Feeling a bit hungry, I went inside and took a seat. I began to look at the menu, and I heard someone say my name. I looked up and saw our caterer. Shit… what was his name?

“Oh, hey,” I said.

“Hi Frank. Would you mind if I sat with you?” he asked me. Damn. How could I forget his name? He remembered mine…

“I don’t mind at all. It’s better than sitting alone,” I laughed. He laughed a little bit too and sat down across from me.

“So how are the wedding plans going?” he asked me.

“Um…” was all I could muster up.

“Um? Well you don’t really sound like a very happy groom,” he said.

G. It started with a G… Gerard! That’s his name!

“Well Gerard, how can one actually feel if their marriage is an arranged one?” I asked.

“Ah, touché,” he said, smirking. “And now you don’t want to be married to this total stranger because that’s what she is. Okay, let me guess. Since you're not wearing a cross or rosary around your neck, and you don’t look Indian or some other culture other than American, really, I'm guessing they’ve arranged it because of the matter of money,” he told me.

I must admit, that was impressive.

“Wow, that’s exactly it. How is it that you know –“

“I've dealt with so many marriages Frank; it just comes so naturally now. In a way, it’s becoming quite cliché and overused for me as well. I see it almost every time I cater a wedding. If you want to talk, I’ll be there for you to talk to and I’ll listen to every word you have to say,” Gerard told me.

I smiled. Gerard was pretty nice for a person that I hardly even knew. And then here I was, spilling my guts to him. He could’ve been plotting to kill me and I was telling him my life. I really hope he didn’t plan on killing me. I'm very paranoid about things like that.

“You don’t want to kill me, do you?” I finally asked him. I had to ask him.

“What?” he laughed and gasped at the same time. “I wouldn’t kill you. Why would I want to do that?” he asked, smiling.

“I don’t know. I mean, if you really wanted to, you could rob me, rape me, and then kill me. Anybody could, really. Shit, now I'm making myself paranoid,” I said, beginning to breathe a little faster. Gerard laughed.

“I won't kill you. I don’t think anyone in here will kill you either. You act like you're fighting in a war or something, jeez. Tell me something, do you feel like you could spend the rest of your life with this woman? Waking up to her every morning, growing old with her, sleeping in the same bed with her every single night… I don’t know if I could do it,” he said. “I mean, I'm not trying to offend you, but unless I really freaking loved that person, then I just couldn’t do it every day. I've never liked marriages,” Gerard confessed to me.

“Then why are you in a catering business?” I asked him.

“Well, I'm contradicting myself here, but when I was a little younger, I saw The Wedding Planner, and I wanted my life to be like that. I know I don’t plan the weddings, but I'm close enough to do doing so. I wanted to fall in love with someone, stealing away their original fiancé in exchange for weird me,” he sighed. “But of course, that won't happen. It’s not like some random groom will leave is future wife for another guy.”

Gerard was gay? Oh my, I found another gay person besides my friend! I didn’t think it’d be possible because no one seems to be openly gay in this city.

“So you're gay?” I asked him, practically jumping in my seat. I don’t know why I was acting like this. I was so weird when it came to gay people. It… fascinated me so much. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I really want to know what it’s like to be with a man. Just, to be the passive one in the relationship for once. Instead of you caressing them all the time, it’d be the opposite way around. And the sex. I think that gay men had an advantage in sex than heterosexual and lesbian couples do. One person isn’t always the receiver unless they want it that way.

“What's it like, to you know, be with a guy?” I asked. I didn’t feel comfortable asking Zachary about it. He’d make fun of me for sure.

“Why are you curious?” he smirked.

“I've just… always wanted to know,” I said slowly, hoping that he doesn’t think I'm bisexual or gay or anything.

“So, the guy who is soon to be married to a woman wants to know how it feels to be with a man, huh? That doesn’t sound suspicious at all,” he said mockingly. I pouted. “If you must know, though, it’s an amazing feeling, and I'm not just talking about the sex here. If you get a cuddly guy, it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy when you wake up in his arms instead of someone waking up in your arms. I think that the feelings of being wanted rather than wanting a person is what attracted me the most. It’s a wonderful feeling. Also, you don’t have to deal with the stuff that a girl needs. Example, make up, period stuff, etcetera, etcetera. Some guys can get bitchy, but there's a bitchy side in everyone, some people just conceal it more than others. Now, as for the time of the month thing, dear God am I grateful that guys don’t go through that! That was another turn-off for me. I'm not trying to sound harsh, I mean, I understand that they can't help it, but I just couldn’t deal with it. But that’s just my opinion. I know I'm probably not helping you, but you really have to actually be with a man to understand what I'm saying,” he beamed.

“Well, your words are the best and more detailed comments that I've gotten so far, so I thank you for that. The sad part is that I can't try anything with anybody… ever again,” I said, finally letting realization dawn on me. I didn’t want to get married. I was still young! I've only been in two relationships. I haven’t had time to explore. My parents sent me to a private college, so I couldn’t really do much there because a lot of the people were stuck up bitch faces, and the ones who weren’t didn’t take any interest in me. I never lived the ‘college life’.

“Frank, you can always try things. Nobody can really stop you. I mean, if you get caught, then yeah, you'll probably be yelled at or hurt physically, but inside your heart, you'd know that you'd be doing it for you and only you,” Gerard told me. His voice was weird to me. It didn’t fit him, yet it did. I don’t even know why I'm thinking this…

“Thanks Gerard. I think we should hang out more often. You seem like a pretty cool guy,” I told him.

“That’d be nice,” he smiled. “You seem like a pretty cool guy yourself, especially since you're so down to earth. I like that attribute in people, no matter the gender, race, or nationality.”

For some reason, I think Gerard would make this marriage a little easier on me.